


A Supernatural Christmas Carol

by Destiny_in_the_Stars



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_in_the_Stars/pseuds/Destiny_in_the_Stars
Summary: Dean Winchester has lost the spirit of Christmas, but one night can change everything. Three visits, once chance to see what's right in front of him. He just has to open his eyes.





	A Supernatural Christmas Carol

Night settled into the small town of Kansas, a place called Lawrence, as a cold wind whipped against the man’s hair. He growled at the feeling, pulling his jacket closer against his body, stalking inside his home like there was nothing wonderful left. The man sighed deeply as he went towards the kitchen, leaving his jacket hanging from a chair, picking up a bottle of beer from the ridge. The man’s hair was a dirty blonde, not fully dark yet not entirely light either, which looked a downright mess and his eyes were a sharp green that held no warmth. Downing his beer, he took a seat with a scowl, realizing just how close the winter holiday was coming. Dean Winchester had little patience for it, not once having celebrated a proper Christmas since the death of his mother in a fire. He refused to participate and nothing was about to change his mind, not even his little brother, Sam, who was passing the weekend in Lawrence. Sam was too much of a light spirit, attempting to urge Dean into joining him for a dinner.

  
“I’m not going, Sammy,” Dean had said stubbornly. Sam’s dejected expression didn’t cause any reaction, only receiving a harsh muttered “happy holidays” before the door had been closed inches from his face. And that was that.

  
Dean moved to pull out another beer bottle when he shivered, feeling a sudden coldness filling the room. Acting out of pure instinct, he clutched a kitchen knife in one hand, whirling around yet found his home empty. He frowned, reluctantly setting his defense weapon back down. He thought back to Sam, almost regretting the way he had spoken to his only brother, only to shake his head in defiance. Despite everything, Sam never once gave upon him, not once, but what did it matter? Dean was set on distancing himself from everyone else. He already knew what happened when he made contact with others, only causing pain to them. It was better this way. The Winchester headed upstairs, collapsing with a heap onto his bed, not really caring that he hadn’t changed out of his clothes. The cold sensation he felt downstairs was back and he jumped up, lips curled, searching everywhere for the source that kept causing it. Nothing. Dean leaned back, suddenly yelping in alarm as he caught sight of something in front of him. His eyes widened from the mere shock of it all because instead of something, he saw someone.  
John Winchester, his father, who had been dead for almost ten or so years, was in front of him. There was a gruff smile on his face and he looked at Dean, his son only staring with a wide startled expression. “How are you- How are you here?” The younger of them hissed. He didn’t move and simply took to watching closely, not making any sudden noise so as to force this dream away. A flurry of questions rang off in Dean’s mind, but everything he wished to say, to ask, remained stuck.  
“You are not dreaming, Dean. I am here to warn you,” John, or whatever he was, continued.  
“Warn me? About what?” Dean questioned, finding he had the ability to speak again. He was so overwhelmed, but the idea that… without warning, tears sprung in the corners of his eyes. “Dean, you will be visited by free spirits before you awake in the morning. Listen to what they have to say.”  
The ominous message was the last thing Dean heard before he realized he had fallen asleep. He awoke to the sound of a clock ticking, ringing loudly in his ears, slowly opening both of his green irises to come face-to-face with another familiar figure: Bobby. The former salvage yard owner who had been a Winchester family friend looked at him before finally speaking.

  
“You’ve grown, boy. How is everything?” Bobby asked in that gruff accent he always carried.

  
“Ev- it’s going great.” Dean lied swiftly, not wanting Bobby who remained true at his side to know he was now a struggling mechanic, drifting apart from Sam despite his brother’s failed attempts at keeping their relationship going.

  
“Then tell me why I was sent to show you something from your past, no less,” Bobby grumbled, looking unamused by the lie which his adoptive nephew had told him.

  
“What are you going to do?” Dean questioned warily, still uncertain over this entire situation. He was dreaming, it was the only thing that made sense. Bobby’s signature hat was on his head and he suddenly took it off, extending it out to the confused mechanic.

  
“Take it, boy. We’re running out of time.”

  
The sight before him was shocking. Dean’s eyes widened a bit as he stared at the younger version of his father happily smiling at a blonde woman, her eyes shining.

“Mom?” The eldest son whispered, feeling tears pricking at his eyes again. How could she be here unless…

  
“Am I seeing the past?” Dean suddenly asked. He gasped as his younger self appeared, bounding after his father with glee.

  
“Daddy!” The boy squealed, green irises dancing with pure joy. There was no hint of the exhausted gaze that his future body held, no sign that he was giving up on life and everything around him. Young Dean giggled, turning to look at the presents beneath a Christmas tree. “Can I open one, please?” The child pleaded. Mary laughed at her son while John ruffled the boy’s hair, a blissful moment settling between the trio. This was before Sam had been born. Dean was two when this had happened, which meant-

  
“You’ll open your gifts soon enough. We have a surprise for you.” Mary smiled.

“What is it?” Dean chirped. The child was practically bouncing on his feet while his older self looked on with an expression of longing. Could all Christmases have been this way had Mary not died in that fire, if John hadn’t pushed his sons away? What was the point in showing him what might have been?

  
“You’re going to get a little brother.” Young Dean’s eyes held light, raw and pure, at the realization that he was getting a sibling. It was so peaceful, so perfect. But that was then and this was now.

  
“Why? What’s the point in showing me the past?” Older Dean snapped angrily, not amused by the events. Bobby muttered something incoherent before the scenery changed again. Where were they? No, no way.

  
It was the first Christmas with Sammy before the fire, before everything had fallen apart. They were happy and nothing was wrong. Sammy’s laugh as he clutched his stuffed dragon only caused Dean to yearn for having that moment with his brother again. Who was he kidding? Sam was happy, he had his wife. He didn’t need the broken mess of Dean getting in the way of that.

  
“Take me home. I don’t want to see this.” Dean growled.

  
“He will come. You must understand, you idjit.”

  
And with that he fell asleep.

  
Dean awoke with a gasp, eyes blinking to realize he was back in the comforts of his own room. Had that all been a dream? He shrugged and headed to get up, finding nothing amazing about the vision, or whatever it was, he had. Another gust of wind picked up, causing the mechanic to shiver, looking around for something which could’ve caused this. Like before, there was nothing, until he heard the sound of a door creaking open. Dean bristled, thinking it might have been an intruder, only to notice that the man in front of him looked… to be shining blue. He gasped, seeing the other’s eyes; a mystical blue. His hair was a tousled, rather messy, black and he wore a trenchcoat with a crooked blue tie.

  
“Who are you?” Dean hissed.

  
“My name is Castiel. You are Dean.” The man spoke, his voice sounding oddly montone and blunt. Dean could only nod in response, wondering what it was this man wanted. Castiel, he seemed to be called.

  
“What do you want?”

  
“I am here to show you the present Christmas. Come, Dean, there is much to be seen.” Castiel continued.

There was something about him that Dean couldn’t place. Whatever it was, he felt curious and followed after the raven-haired man, startled when once again he was thrown into another moment in time.

  
“Sam, I thought you said he’d come,” the familiar voice of Sam’s beloved wife, Jessica, sighed. Sam frowned, a sigh escaping his lips at the remembrance of what had happened.

“He won’t come.” Dean’s kid brother spoke.

  
“He never comes. Is he alright?” Sam didn’t respond immediately, only moving towards the kitchen and pouring a glass of alcohol.

  
“Dean wouldn’t take the chance of being happy for once,” he finally stated, almost bitterly. “No, Sammy, I just don’t want for you to be worrying about me.”

  
Castiel said nothing, watching the exchange with an expression that Dean couldn’t properly figure out what this… angel wanted. “Are you an angel?” Dean suddenly asked.

  
“I am only here to guide you, Dean. You do not think you deserve the chance of happiness.”

  
This was wrong. “I don’t.” He was lying to himself.

  
Castiel looked at the green-eyed man with something akin to sadness like the angel was genuinely worried. Why? What cruel fate was it to give someone a life full of happiness and turn everything into a dark place? Dean said nothing.

  
“Why are you-” Before the mortal man could finish, he was transported into another house where a man stood with two other people who seemed to be family.

  
“I thought he was coming home.”

  
“He will. He told us he would.”

  
“Yeah, well, it's Christmas Eve, and he still isn't here.”

  
Dean glanced at Castiel with an expression that held confusion, wondering why he was being shown this. “What is this about?” He snapped, suddenly feeling irritated. Castiel only smiled and, once again, everything went dark.

  
Dean reappeared in his own home, waiting and waiting for some kind of response. He didn't see the point in being shown these memories, what was already happening. Nothing would-

  
“Now, that's no way to loosen up,” a voice spoke. Dean whipped around to see a blonde man with piercing blue eyes staring back at him. The mysterious individual grinned, his irises glinting against the darkened room.

  
“Who are you?” The mechanic snarled and glared at the blonde.

  
“Oh, sorry. The name’s Lucifer.”

  
Dean raised an eyebrow at the name. “You're named after the devil?” He questioned, unable to keep the surprise from his tone.

  
Lucifer could only laugh loudly and held out a hand, looking at the green-eyed Winchester with an expectant gaze.

“I have much to show you. As much as I'd rather be elsewhere, I don't back down on a promise,” he spoke. Dean grumbled, but having no other choice… he grabbed Lucifer’s palm to be whisked away into another location.

  
He was in a lit-up building filled with tinsel and a large Christmas tree stood in the middle, ornaments all around it and the finishing touch on top. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place from where or why. Dean gasped as he saw his brother, Sam, clad in a suit, appearing with Jessica and a little girl. “Daddy, daddy, is Uncle coming home?” The girl squealed. Sam could only chuckle softly, ruffling his daughter’s hair.

  
“What-” Dean turned to see Lucifer leaning against the wall, a grin forming on his face again.

  
“Just watch, Dean-O. You'll see.”

  
“How's my lovely niece?” A voice, which took him by surprise, called out. Dean’s eyes, against his will, welled up with tears, beginning to stream heavily down his face. This was what he would miss out on? He was missing time with family, with friends, with everyone. He had to change before he ended up alone.

  
“Now, you see?” Lucifer chirped. “Wake up, Dean.”

  
Dean awoke with a startled jolt and scrambled out the front door, snatching his scarf from the key stand. He rushed in the direction of the home in which his brother was staying at. The Winchester ran up to the doorbell, ringing it, hoping someone would respond. There was a shuffle followed by the wood creaking open.

  
“W- Dean?” Sam asked, eyes widened in surprise. He started laughing and beckoned his brother inside, still grinning like a fool. “Dean, this is great. Why the sudden change of heart?”

  
Dean smiled, “Just a thought, you know. A dream.”

  
“Oh, just so you know, I made some friends. They're going to the dinner tonight.”

  
Dean blinked, looking interested. “Really? Do I know them?” He asked.

  
“Yeah, there's one your age. You'll like him.”

  
Later that same night…

  
The doorbell rang and Dean moved to open it, greeted by the sight of a pair of… mystical blue eyes. “Uh… hi?” He asked with a hesitant smile.

  
The man in front of him wore a trenchcoat, which seemed awfully familiar, like something from… a… dream. Dean stared and let out an awkward cough, allowing the mysterious person inside.

“Do you, uh, need anything?” Dean chuckled nervously.

  
“I do not think I do. My name is Castiel, and yours?”

  
“Dean. My name is Dean.”


End file.
